The Memorial
by Vanwilder
Summary: One-shot. Post War. The Ministry creates a Memorial to honour the dead and inspire the living. Harry understands what it means to be a symbol to the people. NOT SLASH.


Harry had been invited today to the Ministry, one month after the Final Battle.

He could honestly say he had no clue what was going on.

Every major newspaper and Wizarding Wireless had been invited as well, so Harry was feeling especially apprehensive.

He knew he wasn't in any danger, he trusted Shack with his life. He just didn't trust anyone with his sanity.

Arriving through one of the Floo exits and and seeing a crowd in the Atrium didn't make him feel any better.

As he slowly navigated through the crowd to reach the stage that had been set-up, he felt a chill run down his spine.

Right next to the stage was a big white cloth covering something. But he could guess very well.

He just knew it would be related to him in some way, and would only embarrass him further. It never occured to him that there were many in the crowd ( _cough... Ron... cough..._ ) who would give an arm and a leg for this 'embarrassment.'

He tried his utmost to meet with Shack prior to the function and unveiling, but he seemed to be very busy all of a sudden. If he didn't know better, Harry would think he he was avoiding him.

After trying for about 15 minutes, he shrugged his shoulders and got prepared for the latest dose of craziness coming his way.

Shack reached the stage, tapped his throat with a muttered _sonorus_ , and started speaking.

"Good evening my fellow Witches and Wizards, we are gathered here today for a very momentous occasion. One month ago, the world's most feared Dark Lord was defeated.

"There are many stories going about, even today, about how he was defeated. Some say that it was a trick that defeated him. Some say his ignorance of Wand-lore got him killed by his own curse. Some recount a big battle with lights flashing and impressive spells flying through the air, in which he couldn't keep up with his adversary.

"But each and every one of these stories get one important thing right. Harry Potter willingly walked to his certain death, as far as he knew, so that our world would have a chance of winning against the Tyrant. And when things looked bleak, not even death could stop him from saving his friends.

"Such bravery and selflessness mark him as something more than Human. They mark him a Saviour. A Chosen One. And to show him our gratitude and respect, we, that is the Ministry along with every citizen of the Wizarding Britain, have installed a memorial in his memory, and that of everyone who fought for the Light.

"So, may I present to you _Monimentum_ _Fulmine_!"

He stepped down from the stage amongst the wild applause of the audience, and waved his wand over the cloth.

It lifted away, to reveal a mesmerising sight.

A huge Lightning bolt which was created from a blue stone which glowed softly, struck a shattered skull with a snake twisting around it. If one observed closely, they could see the occasional lightning bolts travelling along the length of the structure.

It stood upon a golden pedestal which was etched with a long series of names.

The lights were flashing, and the reporters were trying to shout the questions so that the Minister may answer some.

The Minister let the chaos go for a long moment, but eventually released a flash-bang hex to get everyone's attention.

"Thank you, everyone please maintain a proper decorum."

They eventually settled back to their previous places.

"Now, may I please have our very own Saviour, Harry James Potter on stage?"

People started looking in every direction, in hopes that they would spot him first.

But our young protagonist was doing his level best to hide. _And just when I could have use my cloak, I had to leave it at my house. Great, just great_ , he thought.

But he had chosen Gryffindor that fateful night, and Gryffindor's sword had chosen him. So he sighed, and started towards the stage. People gave him a wide berth now.

Shack motioned for him to come up the stage, and he did just that.

He cast his own _sonorus_ , and spoke, "Good evening guys, and thank you. Thank you for all the love you've shown me, helping me along in the seven years I have spent in the Wizarding World."

He looked about, fully expecting everyone to laugh. When everyone just cheered him on, he shook his head a bit.

 _Seems that the sarcasm went straight over their heads, as does everything logical,_ he thought.

He focused his thoughts, and went on, "When I was eleven, and just a runty and young boy who wore broken glasses and hid himself from the world in a veil of normalcy, you people helped me become the wizard I am. If it weren't for Ron and Hermione, I would be six feet under. So thank you for saving me from my own stupidness so many times.

"And remember, everyone has a bit of Saviour within them. But only by helping others can you become your best. Not everyone is good in defeating Dark wizards, but everyone can do their bit in helping the others heal our society.

"Thank you and a good day!"

It was chaos, then, but Harry found the opportunity he was looking for.

"Hey Shack! Mind telling me why you set this up without so much as a by your leave?"

The crowd had missed every one of his sarcastic statements, and he was pissed. It wasn't any fun if the others felt he was genuinely praising them.

"This is it exactly. You would have flat out refused the opportunity, without considering it for once. Oh, don't give me that look, you know I am right. I just thought this was one of those situations where asking for forgiveness is better than asking for permission."

Harry had to grudgingly agree with his assessment.

"But why? Why do all this, what was the purpose?"

"The purpose, Harry, was making public believe that the Dark Lord has truly been killed. The people won't forget the war, but through such small measures they can start putting it behind their life.

"You were constantly on the move, you don't know how it was living under their constant surveillance, how one small mistake could get you killed or worse. Pardon my brashness, but you don't exactly have a family you love. People couldn't defend their neighbours just because _they_ would attack their families.

"It was worse than you imagine, way worse. People died everyday, and you didn't know which hello to your friend would be their last.

"And you stopped the tyrant. Whether by some Ancient Egyptian Curse, or just sneezing in his general direction, you did what none others could.

"This feeling of overwhelming gratitude goes way above just the admiration for killing a Dark wizard.

"The _Monimentum Fulmine_ is public's way of thanking you, and making your legacy permanent.

"We do not build these memorials for the dead, we build them for those that survived."

"Okay, um... Wow. Never thought of it like _that_. Yeah I can see how this is useful. I'll let you do your job then, shan't I?"

"If you allow me to, Saviour." He said the last word in a mocking tone, and the friendly banter between them was back.

The Memorial radiated peace behind them, just a little bit brighter.


End file.
